Revelations Between Friends
by Jennifer Lynn Weston
Summary: Elizabeth Turner persuades Jack to tell her about his background. We all have theories about where Jack Sparrow came from; this is mine. Soft PG, for reference to unhappy past events.
1. Chapter 1

_'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney._

xxx

"Desinit in piscem mulier formosa superne," Captain Sparrow commented, as he playfully sketched a mermaid onto a blank space on the _Empress'_ navigational map.

Across the chart table from him, Captain Turner made a face. It had recently come to light that Jack had somewhat better command of Latin than she did. And that he wasn't above showing it off.

"You're in a merry mood today, Mr. Sparrow."

"An' why shouldn't I be? This cape is situated just a bit further north." Sparrow dipped his quill and set about correcting that fallacy on the chart. "The swag from me last two raids was substantial, as I may have mentioned."

"You have."

"In addition, I greatly enjoyed my recent conversation with young Master William."

Liz did smile at that. "It's amazing how fast he's picking up words these days! He even seems able to keep track of which are English and which are Cantonese."

"These shoals are subject to shifting- you should give 'em a wider berth than is indicated." Jack proceeded to add a dotted line to the chart. "Tis a very fine thing, to have mastery of more'en one language. Opens all kinds of possibilities." He glanced up. "You should see the lad gets a bit of Latin under his belt, too. Quidquid latine dictum sit altum viditur. Very useful fer gainin' access to the bastions of the upper crust."

"Or for irritating your less-Latin-proficient friends."

The pirate's eyes sparkled mischievously. "Vah! Denuone Latine loquebar? Me ineptum. Interdum modo elabitur."

"Enough, Jack." Even amidst her annoyance, Liz considered that this discussion might give her a chance to establish something she'd long suspected about Jack Sparrow. "But you're right; I should teach Willy at least some of that language when he's old enough. What age did you start learning it?"

Sparrow's stare grew distant for a moment. "I was eight. That was the year me Da finally started supplyin' sufficient funds to make sure I got proper schooling. It were the one family tradition he considered worth pass..."

Jack did something virtually unprecedented; he cut himself off in mid-word, his eyes starting. "... worth, passin' down ta me," he haltingly finished, glancing uneasily at Liz. "I should not have said that."

She spoke reassuringly. "You haven't really given anything away, Jack. I've long assumed, from your command of language alone, that you're no plebian." Jack looked around, as if fearful they'd been overheard. Liz leaned across the tabletop. "If I promise to keep it between us, could you at least confirm whether I'm right?" she coaxed.

Jack twitched the quill nervously. "Why do you need to know? My ancestry's never a matter of concern to you before."

"And it isn't now. Nothing you could tell me about it would change my view of you, Jack Sparrow. It just it seems... not quite normal, that we've been declared friends for most of two years, yet I know no more about your background than I did at the start." With a tilt of the head, she added, "I can't believe this is something you're ashamed of."

Jack deliberately set the quill down, acknowledging he was going to have to address this issue. "Theer's things other than shame that can seal a man's lips, Izzie."

"Then what's sealing yours?"

"A stern request from my Da. He's a disowned younger son, an' still bears a fierce grudge over it. So he doesn't care to have his lineage known, it bein' his earnest wish to never be tracked down by any o' his blood kin. They certainly have resources ta do so should they ever establish his identity."

"So he's from a powerful family? English, I'd assume, from his..." Liz's jaw dropped, as an incredible possibility occurred to her. "You don't mean...?"

"Not the current residents of St. James' Palace, if that's what yer about to inquire. But only a couple notches below. As highborn as you can be an' still have the option of vanishing completely." Jack made a deprecating gesture. "Edward Jonathan Teague originally bore a different surname- one known to you. You can't have avoided hearing it, growin' up anywhere in the British Isles."

Liz frowned as she pondered this. "That name didn't happen to be Windsor, did it?"

Jack blinked. "Why do you ask?"

"That was my mother's maiden name."

"Oh. No, that's not it."

Liz's eyes narrowed. "Jack, are you telling me the truth?"

The Captain somberly raised his palm. "My Liege, I swear to you, on pain of death, that Windsor was not me Da's original surname." Lowering his hand, he continued, "I've no reason to deceive you about it, Lizzie. I'd be more'en happy to discover you were my third cousin twice removed, or whatever it would be. But the fact is, I've no reason to believe we're closer 'en any two random descendants of British nobility. Please trust me on this."

Elizabeth sagged. With disappointment? "Well, you can't blame me for wondering- you did delay answering until you knew my motive for asking."

"Force of habit, Luv. Throughout my life, I've had to be wary of any inquiries pertainin' to my ancestry." He glanced about again. "There's another reason to keep this stowed. I am given to understand; in addition to me relatives, certain vindictive parties would very much like to get hold of Teague, and/ or meself, should it ever come to light whose scions we are. The Keeper of the Code is at lesser risk, bein' ensconced in Shipwreck Cove. But for me, who prefers a more mobile lifestyle..." He spread his hands. "'Tis safer not to advertise. The price on me head is tempting enough already."

"I see." Captain Turner bit her lip, wondering just how much of this she ought to believe. "Have you ever considered someday making contact- perhaps clandestinely- with your ancestral family?"

Jack looked sour. "Can't say I ever have."

"Qualis pater, talis filius," Liz observed, with just a trace of a smirk.

"In regard to this particular matter, yes." Jack folded his arms, looking stern. "Teague and I are agreed; bein' disinherited was a penalty grossly disproportionate to his offense."

"Taking up piracy?"

"That happened later. He started as a privateer captain- an acceptable profession fer a youngest son ta pursue." Jack looked at her sideways, as though he were about to reveal something incriminating. "Elizabeth, I'll need your promise not to repeat any of this, before I say more."

"You have my word on that, Captain Sparrow."

He bent close to the table and spoke low. "My father's unpardonable sin was loving a 'woman of colour'. Not in a forgivable doxy-master relationship, either. He had the audacity to marry her, in a public ceremony no less. Even let her give birth aboard his own ship, thus acknowledging her child was his own. Makin' no effort at all to conceal how he'd contaminated his family's oh-so-pure bloodline. That's what really brought their wrath down on 'im."

Of the several jolts Liz had received through the course of their conversation, this was the harshest. For long seconds all she could do was stare at Jack's expressive chocolate eyes, his magnificent dark mane, his golden-brown complexion. How could anybody regard such beautiful features as 'contaminants'?

"I trust you understand now, why I'd receive no warm welcome from that lot." The resignation in his voice dispelled Elizabeth's last doubt about his veracity.

"If you were in my family tree, Jack Sparrow, I certainly wouldn't be loathe to claim you. In fact, I'd want the whole world to know."

Jack managed a small smile. "An' I'd be delighted to claim you, and Willy, as my relatives. But I were tellin' the truth- my Da's name wasn't Windsor. Nor Swann. And certainly not Turner." He hesitated a moment, before adding, "If you're really keen ta know, you can ask Teague. Just don't be surprised if the inquiry provokes some fireworks. It's not likely he'll be happy with me fer spillin' that cargo."

Liz thought for a moment. "I'm probably better off not knowing. If I did, I might be tempted to some... regrettable action." She straightened, dismissing the mood. "Anyway, nothing your father could reveal would be likely to change my view of you. You are Captain Jack Sparrow- charming rogue, devious schemer, legendary adventurer, and skilled cartographer." Elizabeth scooped up the quill, and handed it back to him. "So perhaps you could resume updating my charts?"

"Be glad to." Jack carefully inked the tip and got back to work. "Don't imagine I feel any sense of deprivation over this, luv. I've done perfectly well fer myself, without bein' listed in any kennel books."

Liz nodded fondly. "Fluctuat, nec mergitur."

The pirate flashed a grateful golden grin. "Bene dictum, Lizzie. I told you Latin were useful."

xxx

**FINIS**

xxx

_Translations:_

_Desinit in piscem mulier formosa superne. - A woman who is beautiful above ends in a fishtail._

_Quidquid latine dictum sit altum viditur. - Whatever is said in Latin sounds profound._

_Vah! Denuone Latine loquebar? Me ineptum. Interdum modo elabitur. - Oh! Was I speaking Latin again? Silly me. Sometimes it just slips out._

_Qualis pater, talis filius. - Like father, like son._

_Fluctuat, nec mergitur. - It is tossed by the waves, but it does not sink._

_Bene dictum. - Well said._

_-_  
_Historical Note:_

_St. James' Palace was the principle residence of the British monarchs, prior to their acquisition of Buckingham Palace in 1761._


	2. Chapter 2

_'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney._

_xxx  
_

"It certainly wouldn't have occurred to me to lay down Turkish rugs in a play room," Elizabeth mused.

The Pirate King was standing beside the doorway of said interior, keeping vigil on her two-year-old son Willy and a dozen other children (or something around a dozen- it was nigh impossible to get an exact count.) So many fine weavings landed up in Shipwreck Cove that the residents held a different view about what constituted appropriate usage for them. Certainly that deep pile certainly afforded excellent cushioning, Liz observed, as a dark little girl picked herself up from a fall and rejoined the tag game. "No grabbing hair!" Liz called warningly to the much heftier redhead who was currently 'It'.

She had better appreciation for the room's abundant playthings, originating from as many parts of the world as the youngsters themselves. Cornhusk hobby horses, gourd rattles, roughhewn wooden blocks, fine china dolls, braided rush hoops, antelope-hide drums, carved ivory elephants and seals- all were available to whatever child wanted to play with them. None of that meting out of toys according to social rank, so familiar to Elizabeth's nursery days. She certainly envied them that. Now if only more of these kids would remember to put said toys on the shelves before starting one of their more boisterous games...

"Captain Turner?"

Elizabeth turned towards that call, saw a rather grizzled man approaching. From his age, she guessed whom he probably worked for before his words confirmed it.

"My Liege, the Keeper of the Codex 'spectfully requests immediate audience with ya, in the Great Cabin aboard 'is ship. Some matter afoot be needin' yar testimony." Noticing her glance towards Willy, the geezer added, "I ken keep an eye on the whelps 'til ya return. Do ya need directions?"

"Thanks, but that won't be necessary. The _Star of Madagascar_ is never hard to find," Liz assured.

Indeed, even someone less familiar with Shipwreck Cove than she would have had little trouble locating said ship. Even among the motley bunch docked around the Cove's central island, Edward Teague's vessel was distinct. As she ascended the dank gangplank Liz reflected that, like many seasoned vessels, the _Star_ reflected her longtime captain- rather dour and brooding, obviously past her prime, but clearly still a force to be reckoned with.

The long-in-the-tooth crewmen nodded respectfully as she crossed the deck to the great cabin's door. Knowing she was expected, she let herself into the underlit but well-appointed chamber.

Two faces turned towards her, Teague's and- no surprise at all- Jack Sparrow's. The pair were seated in low cushioned chairs beside a short table- a large etched-brass tray mounted on wooden legs. Enticing scents of coffee and honey mingled with the usual tar and tobacco odors, but Liz did not examine the table contents. Etiquette demanded she keep her gaze on the Keeper of the Code, though her practiced peripheral vision was also studying Jack.

"Good of you to come, Captain Turner." The older man was without his large plumed hat (which Liz privately compared to a badly-stuffed pheasant), but wore his usual gaudy red frock coat. His furrowed visage was no fiercer than usual. His son, Liz noted, was the one who looked agitated.

"I'd hoped you could confirm the veracity of a certain report." (Jack shot Liz a semi-pleading glance.) Fixing his piercing dark eyes on her, Teague quietly asked, "Did you recently order Jackie to give you an account of his family lineage?"

Elizabeth instantly understood the situation. Though she had no wish to get Sparrow in further trouble, she knew attempting to deceive the Keeper was futile. Diplomatic phrasing seemed her best option.

"I did not use the word 'Order', sir. But I suppose, as I was the one asking, it could have been construed as such."

From the way his mouth thinned, Liz knew Teague knew exactly what she was up to. She continued to meet his eye steadily none-the-less.

"Was this an inquiry you instigated?"

Here was firmer ground. "Yes. I did not intend to pry family secrets from him, Keeper Teague. It simply seemed appropriate, given our long association, that I should learn something more about Jack Sparrow's background."

"And what did you learn?"

"That you are the disowned son of a noble English family, whom neither you nor Captain Sparrow wish to have any further association with. And that your offense was making an unorthodox choice of wife. I have not learned your original surname. Jack was reluctant to reveal it, and, as I have no need to know, I did not insist he do so."

Teague looked sharply to his boy, who smirked in a 'What did I tell you?' manner. Liz relaxed- apparently she'd said the right thing.

The fragrance of coffee was becoming quite distracting. The Keeper took note of Liz's intrigued sniffing. "Please pardon my poor manners, Mrs. Turner. You are quite welcome to join us." He indicated a third lowset chair.

"Thank you- I could use some replenishment." As she sat Liz looked over the offerings; a small brass coffee pitcher, several handleless ceramic cups, a plate generously heaped with baklava- a layered pastry-and-nut confection Teague and his son were both partial to. Elizabeth poured herself some of the thick brown brew, lifting the little cup by it's rim.

"Careful, Liz. It's Turkish- very strong!" Liz took a sip and almost grimaced. Jack hadn't been exaggerating.

Teague had an easier time draining his own cup. "As you're interested in learning more about Jackie, perhaps you'd like me to relate a few events?'

An apprehensive flash crossed Sparrow's visage. Liz cocked an eyebrow. "Keeper Teague, were you to planning to retaliate for your son's indiscretion by relating some embarrassing anecdotes about him?"

"It'd occurred to me." The fierce eyes gleamed wickedly.

"Then tell away!" Elizabeth leaned back, crossing her trousered legs. The younger man went stiff with dread.

But Teague elected to show mercy. "I only said it had occurred to me, Liege."

Liz waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, well- I don't need to know that either." As she reached to the pastry plate she noted Jack sagging with relief, and couldn't resist adding, "You may offer me a consolation by explaining another matter I'm curious about, Captain Sparrow."

"I knew there'd be a catch," Jack muttered. "What did ye want to know?"

Mmmm!" The Pirate King purred at her first bite of the baklava. This was certainly the best she'd ever tasted; crisp fillo, good balance of honey and spices, fresh-tasting nuts. Though the bitterness of the coffee might be skewing her appreciation. Small wonder the two were customarily served together.

Liz swallowed carefully before answering. "You appear to have followed your father's example of taking on a new surname. I wondered if there was a story behind that."

The two males cut eyes. "No dark secrets there, Jackie." Teague set down his empty cup, reached behind his chair and brought forth his decorated guitar.

Jack shrugged agreeably, taking a slice of pastry for himself as he settled into his narrative. "My original moniker was 'Jonathan Bharadwaj Teague'. The middle name was borrowed from my late maternal grandfather- who, unlike my paternal one, was held in high regard by his offspring. It means 'Fortunate Bird' in Hindi, me Mum's native tongue. I assume that's why all her... endearment names fer me had avian themes. I never let her use any of those in front of me mates. Nor 'Jonathan' either- they'd shortened that to 'Jack' on first hearing. But when it were jus' the two of us..."

Jack paused, recalling that long-stilled singsong voice. 'Chalo, beta uthho... My sweet little bird... Mein tumse pyar karti hoon, suparn...' His eyes shadowed.

"I was seven when Mum caught the consumption. It took five years to kill her. Relocatin' to a better part of London, away from the Thames, gave us easier livin' conditions but didn't do much to slow the wastin'. When she were in the final stage Da took her aboard this ship, so's she could spend her last days sailing with him. She looked bloody awful by then. Twice her natural age, coughin' every other minute, barely able to walk." He glanced away for a moment, as Teague played a series of mournful notes.

"Mum begged me ta come too, but I was stubborn as any twelve-year-old could be, railin' that I'd not be settin' foot on any pirate ship. At that point I'd convinced myself that Da was to blame fer it all- if he hadn't gone pirating he'd not have done prison time in Java, leaving us stuck beside that pestilential river long enough fer the stench to infect her lungs. One of the last times Mum ever saw me, I was givin' strong words to Da on the dock. Yellin' to his face that I wasn't ever going ta be the disgraceful excuse fer a man that he was, that I'd make my fortune as an honest sailor. No resortin' ta lawlessness like he'd done. An' I certainly wasn't gonna carry his name any longer!"

"It was rather similar to the parting 'conversation' I had with my own father," Teague commented grimly.

Shrugging off his vague embarrassment, Jack continued. "So I were left on my onesies in London; a skinny street urchin with seafarin' ambitions an' four years worth of formal education. Plus a good chunk of coin Mum handed ta me upon leavin'- I had it set in my mind it was from her, not Da! I did make good on that last threat; never introduced meself as 'Teague' again.

"That left me with a bit of a dilemma. 'Jack Bharadwaj' was too foreign-sounding ta fit inta the society I intended to rise to. It was my preference to retain the avian theme, Mum havin' been so fond of feathered beasties. 'Jack Bird' was too short an' plain, though. I seriously considered 'Jack Falcon', 'Jack Raven' and 'Jack Gannet'. None o' them were quite right- I wanted something reminiscent of me Mum.

"'Sparrow' occurred to me only 'cause she'd liked those little blighters that'd resided in our townhouse garden. But the oftener I repeated it, the better it sounded. A sparrow's not a fancy or formidable bird, but it's a survivor. Knows how ta take advantage of opportunities, can get by almost anywhere, is nigh uncatchable. So..." Jack spread his hands with dramatic flare. "Is that a satisfactory explanation, Liege?"

Liz nodded, savoring another sweet mouthful. "Entirely satisfactory, Captain Sparrow. This account does have me wondering about something else, though. If you refused to sail with your father how did you end up going to sea?"

Jack slapped a palm to his forehead, pretending exasperation. "Another tale? Yer nigh insatiable, Lass!" But, after taking a stiff gulp of coffee, he launched into it.

"The original plan had been fer Mum's half-brother Matsendra ta find me a position aboard whatever ship he was servin', as soon as I'd turned thirteen. He'd driven it firmly into my head that if I was ta disembark so young, I should be accompanied by an older relative to afford protection from any ill-intended crewmembers. But Uncle Matt was lost at sea when I was eleven. Teague had invited me to crew aboard his _Star of Madagascar_- bein' the captain's son I'd be safe as I possibly could be. As mentioned, I'd refused on principle. Instead I took all the money Mum left me, and..." Jack's smile was almost whimsical. "I don't suppose you'd believe I bought my own small ship, crewed it with whelps me own age, an' spent the next several years sailin' the world in search of various legendary treasures?"

Liz tilted her head. "That's just the sort of story I loved when I was a child, but I don't think I'd buy it now."

"Ye may credit the last part at least. Hangin' around the London waterfront, I'd heard so many yarns about hidden gold I figured at least some of 'em must be true. The idea of findin' such a stash was most appealin'- that would afford me the financial wherewithal ta build a ship to my personal specifications. I'd make it bigger an' better even than me Da's!"

Teague looked up from his strumming, a challenging spark in his eye. "As if you ever had a chance of doing better than the _Star_!"

Jack seemed about to make a retort, but the Pirate King raised her hand. "Gentlemen, please! The _Black Pearl_ and the _Star of Madagascar_ are both exemplary vessels. I don't need to hear you exchange another barrage about their comparative merits."

The two men were giving each other such challenging glares Elizabeth had to stifle a most unpiratical urge to giggle. "So, like many an adventurous youngster, you wanted to try your hand at treasure hunting."

Jack resumed his story-tellers mode. "I did. As the Caribbean Islands seemed ta figure most prominently in these accounts, I decided that'd be the best place ta start looking. So I set sail on my _Barnacle_... or bought passage on a respectable transport vessel out o' London, if you prefer that version. Either way, that crossing was an intense learning experience. Everything I'd read about sailing, or was taught the fundamentals of by Uncle Matt, was translated into hands-on experience. I proved ta have a real knack fer it... born in the blood, as 'tis said. When I finally reached that storied New World archipelago, I fell in love at the first scent o' the palm trees. I've sailed much of the world since, but that's still the one region where I feel most at home."

"I had a similar response the first time I visited Madagascar," Teague commented, his touch soft on the guitar strings.

"And then you- Jack, I mean- set about searching for gold?"

"Aye. First thing I discovered is, it ain't a fast way ta get rich. There's far more rumors of shine than actual existing examples, an' many of the latter turn out ta be already found, or had their worth greatly exaggerated. Or they're untouched an' up to reputation, but the price fer getting at 'em is far too high. The 'Emeralds of Anubis Crag', fer one- so far as I'm concerned they can sit there until Judgment Day!

"Mind you, I don't consider those wasted years. 'Twas my first taste of real freedom, Liz! I visited so many places, encountered all manner of people. An' such grand luck I had- even certain of my mishaps had favorable results. Notably the time I went off course an' ran aground on a South Pacific island I'd had no idea was there. By great good fortune, the native people perceived me as an unthreatening whelp, worthy o' their succor an' sympathy. Once I'd managed to communicate my landing on theer shore was accidental, they took it on themselves ta give me lessons on their methods of navigation, bein' well aware that another such error could have dire consequences.

"I ended up stayin' with 'em fer over a year- long after I'd repaired my boat- learnin' everything they could teach me. Never got a better return fer my time 'cause no gold or silver could've done more fer me. It's bloody uncanny what those blokes can perceive jus' from studyin' wave patterns, or feelin' the tilt of their crafts, or watchin' the tiniest cloud on the horizon! Any European would swear they were usin' witchcraft. They ain't, though. Those islanders just have a whole 'nother way of payin' attention to their surroundings, Liz- of seein' and hearin' what it has to tell." Jack sighed nolstagically. "I'm not explaining this well at all. Suffice to say: what I took away was sufficient that, on no occasion since (discounting World's End) have I ever felt truly disoriented, on any ocean at any time of day, anywhere on the face of the Earth."

There was silence of a moment, broken only by Teague's subdued guitar notes and the lap of waves on the hull.

"But to conclude me tale..." Jack grinned broadly. "It were less 'en a year later- jus' a day shy of my eighteenth birthday- that I finally located a jewel cache as large an' valuable as I'd hoped for. So, I set off for the Belfast shipyards, ta have 'em..."

Elizabeth interrupted. "Wait a moment! Are you saying your scheme actually worked?"

Jack looked affronted. "I'd not've expected such a level of incredulousness from you, Elizabeth. You've seen the like fer yerself at Isla de Muerta. It's not like every treasure chest bears a curse."

Mrs. Turner looked to Teague for confirmation. The older man shrugged. "All I can tell you is, Jackie didn't get the funds to construct the _Black Pearl_ from me."

"Or the _Wicked Wench_, as I first named her. I'd drawn up ship-building plans for fer years! 'Scaled her size down to a barque, having experienced the advantages of speed an' maneuverability. But I did lavish her with all the decorative embellishments I'd originally planned- a fine Lady should have ornaments ta match her rank. I had enough swag to pay fer round-the-clock builders, so only seven months later she was launched- the most beautiful vessel on all the seas!" Jack shot another challenging look towards his Da. Fortunately Teague seemed fully occupied with his fingering.

"That was one of my happiest moments ever, Liz. Settin' sail on me own splendid rig, finally commanding the means to become the legendary seafarer I was meant to be! I did start out slow- needed ta accumulate some reliable fundage since I'd (temporarily) had my fill of 'uncertain ventures'. So fer a while I opted fer routine jobs. I took commissions to haul cargo, earned a reputation fer doin' it ably, was soon workin' regularly fer the East India Trade Company..." Jack suddenly scowled, "...under the supervision of one Cutler Beckett. I don't need to describe how that course went awry."

Elizabeth nodded gravely. "With that brand on your arm, the lawless strata of seafaring was the only one still open to you. Your life had come full circle."

Teague glanced up at that. "You wanted freedom and the seas. It turned out, the price was the piracy you were born to."

"So it would seem." Sparrow's voice conveyed neither glee nor regret, just acknowledgment.

Liz finished another bite of nut-filled pastry. "I know the next few events in your saga. You struck a devil's bargain to raise your scorched-but-seaworthy ship, and renamed her to reflect the price you'd paid. You engaged in piracy for two years, culminating with a venture to find the treasure of Isla de Muerta. You survived a mutiny and a marooning, though not unscathed. But you've never told me much about what you did between then and the day you pulled me out of Port Royal Harbor."

"Insatiable, indeed." But the upbeat accompanying melody indicated Teague was more amused than anything else.

"That be too many tales fer one sittin', luv. Particularly in the absence of rum." Jack eyed his coffee cup discontentedly. "This stuff's fine fer hoistin' the eyelids first thing in the mornin', but the tongue prefers other lubricants."

"Could you at least tell when you next encountered your father?" Liz wheedled.

"You could just as well ask me." Apparently Teague was in a talkative mood. "It was about a year after the mutiny when my boy paid a visit to the _Star_..."

"'Visit'?" Jack interrupted indignantly. "You bloody kidnapped me!"

"Would you rather I hadn't?"

"Not really, seein' as I'd be dead otherwise. But yer procedure could've stood some refinement. That was one o' the worst scares of me life!"

"There wasn't time for negotiations, Jackie. I had to snake you on board and get underway before the _Star_ was recognized."

Elizabeth, whose intrigued gaze had been bouncing between the two, managed to cut in. "Keeper, Captain; this sounds like a fascinating yarn, but could you be so good as to start at the beginning?"

"It happened in Lisbon. A, regrettable incident occurred." Jack dramatically clapped a palm against his upper right chest. Recalling the scars there, Liz's eyes widened a bit.

"That's when you got shot?"

"Twice, as ye may recall."

"I've always wondered how you survived that."

"If those bullets had gone straight in I probably wouldn't have. But they were fired from a low angle, by a blaggard hidin' under a bed. The details don't matter now," Sparrow insisted haughtily. "As I were an indigent in that fair city, I ended up bein' shoved into a hospice fer such. They provided me with a hard little bed plus an occasional swallow of gruel, an' left me to take me chances... to recover or die on me own. Hardly the finish I'd envisioned fer myself.

"I'd no inkling Da had been trackin' me fer some while, or that he'd recently got word about where I was laid up. Least of all did I suspect he'd send two uncommonly large an' ugly crewmen ta snatch me out of that place. So I'd no clue what was happenin' when I was jostled awake to find myself bein' hauled through the streets to a ship I didn't recognize- not from that angle- by a pair of ruffians I'd never seen. An' me too weak an' sore ta do a thing about it. Nasty explanations kept occurring ta me all the while they were settlin' me into a cabin bed an' gettin' the ship cast off. Not a pleasant way to pass the time!

"Finally my Da came in ta tell me I was aboard the _Star of Madagascar_. He promised I'd get proper care from the ship's physician, plus food fit fer human consumption, an' we'd talk when I were up to it." Jack thoughtfully fingered the scars through his shirt. "I don't deny that sawbones knew his business... what was the bounder's name?"

"Doctor Verbinski."

"That's the one. That git was cranky as an old walrus with toothache, an' some of his treatments hurt worse'en forced penance, but they got the wounds clean. After three days it were evident I was on the mend, for which I was profoundly gratified. 'Did worry a bit, though, about that impending discussion with Da. It seemed likely he'd be doin' plenty o' gloatin'. I'd boasted loud about how I'd win riches an' renown fer meself without fallin' ta thievery like him... an' instead I'd wound up a penniless vagabond with a pirate brand.

"But when our talk came, it weren't like that. He started out describin' how he'd first become a pirate- I'd never heard the full tale before. Turns out it hadn't been his first choice any more'en it'd been mine. He also revealed it were a sore regret ta him, to've left Mum an' me in tight straits fer so long. He'd gotten caught in Batavia whilst doin' rearguard duty fer some o' his mates. When he fell behind, they'd kept to the code."

"I couldn't have expected anything else of them." Teague was now playing a sorrowful folk ballad.

"Da said he hadn't tried to explain before 'cause when I was twelve I'd not have understood that life sometimes gives you choices that aren't simple, or pleasant. But he figured I'd comprehend that now." Jack glanced ruefully at his branded wrist. "I could hardly refute that."

Captain Turner nodded gravely. "So you two were reconciled."

"Not a hundred percent," Teague responded. "But we were back on speaking terms. Enough for Jack to ask if I'd buried his Mum ashore- if so, he wanted to visit the grave. I told him I hadn't, but she had received another commemoration." The two men shared a look which told Liz this was a matter best left between them.

Jack didn't seem comfortable with the subject either. "Da also repeated his invitation fer me to join his crew. I turned it down again, fer different reasons..."

Teague clarified. "Because being under your father's command would've made you feel like a small whelp again. Not a situation any adult wants to relive. Least of all one who's been ruler of their own vessel." All three pirate captains exchanged knowing looks. "Jackie made it clear he intended to regain his _Black Pearl_- that he could never regard any other ship as more than a temporary substitute for her. I could understand that too, having a similar attachment to my own fine lass." The Keeper reached to lay a unexpectedly tender hand on the _Star's_ bulkhead. "But he did stay long enough to earn some swag from our next two raids. He wasn't hale enough to participate in the boardings, but did hold our wheel steady for 'em. That entitled him to a share.

"Our third prize, the _Whimbrel_, was a brig out of Dublin. Essentially sound, though in a sad state of upkeep. As was the crew. Showing the first symptoms of scurvy, they were. It seems they'd run short on citrus and the captain was keeping the remainder in reserve for himself and his officers." Teague struck an angry chord, eyes flashing. "Even a merchant captain should've known better than to treat his tars that way. This one paid the price; his deck crew put up no resistence at all. When we boarded, the first thing they did was inform us exactly where their captain was hiding. Second thing they did was offer me his position, in trade for any citrus fruits we could spare.

"I explained I wasn't in the market for a new command but had a fine navigator who was. They could have him, plus a crate of limes, in exchange for half their wool cargo and their most unworthy captain. That rotter demonstrated such a strong sense of entitlement, I deduced he was probably of a caste that would fetch a hefty ransom." Teague grinned wolfishly. "We struck an immediate accord."

Jack was also smirking. "The _Whimbrel_ was no _Pearl_ but she kept me mobile fer the next few years. Our first stop was Singapore, where I finally heard a full accounting of the Curse on me poor ship. I weren't sure I believed it, but that was when I started laying groundwork fer the plan which eventually restored my Lady to me."

"Don't forget you had some help from Will," Liz reminded.

"Aye. And yer fair self. An' the late lamented Mr. Norrington."

Teague nodded. "A fine adventure. One which set a few more events into motion." That was something else they could all agree on.

"As to yer probable next question, Liege: the next place Da and I crossed paths was Shipwreck Cove..."

Jack got no further before someone started pounding on the cabin door. It turned out to be one of the younger officers from the _Empress_. "A thousand pardons, but we have a situation in the play room..."

Elizabeth was already in motion. "Jack, Keeper; many thanks. I'd love to talk longer but you know how it is with kids!" The last was hurriedly called over her shoulder. Both men watched as the door slowly swing shut behind her.

Jack turned a bewildered look on his father. "What makes her think we'd know about that?"

"Parents frequently assume their position is understood. I've done that myself." Teague's tone was as close to apologetic as it ever got.

Jack waved briefly. "That's bilge out the scuppers, Da."

The Keeper regarded his son with uncharacteristic mildness. "Is it, Jackie?"

Sparrow fingered his chin braids as he considered this. His eye fell on the last few baklava slices, gleaming mischievously.

"I'll tell you what. You supply enough o' this delightful confection to treat me entire crew- with maybe a bit extra fer the captain's use- an' I'll consider us square."

"We have an accord, Captain Sparrow." Teague spoke solemnly, but his fingers played a lighthearted air.

xxx

**FINIS**  
xxx

_Credits:_

_"You wanted freedom and the seas. It turned out, the price was the piracy you were born to."_  
_This line is a variation on one from peladonww's fanfic, 'Voyages of the Dawn Chaser.'_

_Jack learning navigational skills from the Polynesians is an idea borrowed from p0wdermonkey's 'Tall Ship Tales'._

_I highly recommend both stories._

_x_

_Historical Notes:_

_Jakarta, the capital city of Java (the Indonesian island, not the programming language), was called 'Batavia' whilst under Dutch occupation, from 1619 to 1942._

_Consumption (aka tuberculosis) was once suspected to be caused, or at least aggravated, by inhaling the impure 'vapors' emitted by polluted rivers and lakes. It was observed that people living near such noxious waters frequently developed the deadly disease._  
_It's now known the illness is caused by a bacterium, which can spread readily in the impoverished conditions that tended to prevail in these undesirably odorous neighborhoods._


	3. Chapter 3

_'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney._

xxx

"Straighten those legs, lad! The more kick ye waste makin' splash, the less ta push ya forward!"

This barked instruction came from First Mate Richard Jenson, more often called Lionfish. Jack tried to comply, and found himself swimming faster.

The boy turned his head a bit to glance at Mr. Jenson, trudging alongside him through the shallows. Lionfish was shorter and wider than his Da, with close-cut ash blond hair and a broad face. Rather gruff, but the type who yelled rather than hit. After due consideration, Jack had decided he liked the man, even if he did order Jack around too much.

Of course, the First Mate was himself following orders from Captain Teague, and Jack knew sailors had to obey their captains. His father had decreed his son must learn to swim- not just the basic head-above-water kind, either. "He wants ya ta handle every temperament of water ya might encounter, so I'm ta teach ya every kind of swimmin' I know," Lionfish had explained.

Yesterday he'd taught Jack an efficient distance-swimming stroke, and how to tread water with minimal effort. Today's lesson was speed swimming, which was the most fun yet. Lionfish had to force his pupil to take a break.

"Ye'd best come out ta warm up fer a bit. Underwater swimmin' is next, which requires ya ta be alert, which ya can't be if yer brain-chilled."

"I hain't cold!" Jack protested, trying hard to control his trembling lower jaw.

"Boy, if ye must fib, at least don't tell such obvious ones- yer teeth's chatterin' like an old wench. Don't ye ferget yer Da's order ta do ez I say!" In one of those lowered tones which made Jack confident Lionfish liked him too, the Mate added, "Time in the sun'll do ye good. Ya need ta tan that pale landlubber hide o' yers."

Jack looked incredulous- by London standards, he was anything but pale.

Jenson escorted his charge out of the water and up the brownish beach, where they both sat down in the sand. Jack had no natural talent for waiting; luckily the 'keeping still position' his Mum taught him seemed to help. He straightened, crossed his legs, and rested his hands palm-up on his knees. People at home sometimes gave him odd looks when he did this, but not the 'Star's crew. Lionfish just dug his whale's tooth and nail from a trouser pocket, and resumed work on his masterpiece- a detailed etching of a fearsome tentacled monster.

Jack couldn't deny the sun felt good on his bare skin. The view was intriguing, too. Before him was bright azure ocean, outshining even the 'Star of Madagascar' anchored a ways offshore. Looking over his shoulder, he could see pointed brown mountains, completely devoid of any kind of human-built structure. In fact, the only signs of people were along the shore- several scattered crewmen and their beached longboats. Having spent his whole remembered life in a crowded London slum, Jack found this uninhabited place alien as the moon, and several times as appealing.

"I wanna stay here to explore!" he suddenly announced.

"Can't do that, Lad. A pirate ship's got ta keep on the move. When it does anchor, the men generally prefer a locale w' more amenities." Jenson's glance swept the pristine landscape. This secluded inlet, on an unsettled coast of Lanzarote Island, was a fine place for a vessel to stock fresh water, for a lively seven-year-old to learn to swim, and for his sadly ailing mother to take in some clean air and nice scenery. But very little else.

"The crew were willin' ta make this trip out o' consideration fer yer Da an' Mum. Been separate fer an soreful long time, they have. But crew'll soon be itchin' ta resume chasin' plunder."

"But the ocean's lots bluer here, an' it's warmer. At home we haveta wear clothes all the time!"

"Don't get too used ta doin' without those, young Master Teague. We'll be headin' back ta London right soon, ta deliver you an' yer Mum to yer new quarters. There'll be no arguin' that point! Yer still too small ta join the crew- first wave what sweeps the deck'll wash you straight overboard!"

Jack pouted mightily, though he already knew that strategy was ineffective on Lionfish. Seeking to lighten the boy's mood, Jenson reached to squeeze a sop of seawater out of Jack's tangled brown hair. "Such a mop ye've got- are ya sure that hain't a sponge growin' out of yer scalp?"

Jack fidgeted, clenching his hands. "How much longer 'til I can go back in?"

"When ye've warmed enough, an' not before, whelp."

"Mum tells me stories when I haveta wait."

"Yer right spoiled that way." Lionfish's voice softened with admiration. "'Tis a rare fine thing, the way yer Mum can spin a yarn. I don't think that Arab wench Sharazad could do better. Askin' the same from me'll just leave ya disappointed."

Again, Jack was startled. He'd always known his Mum told good stories, but this was the first time he'd heard anyone talk about that like it was something special.

"Can you explain ta me 'bout somethin'?"

Jenson was boring the nail in to carve a round spot. "Depends. What might ya be wantin' ta know?"

"Why're you called 'Lionfish'?"

The Mate scowled. "An' what's yer interest in that?"

Jack pulled on his best Innocent Child face. "I saw a picture of a lionfish in one of me Da's books. You don't look like that."

"I should hope not- all striped an' spiny! No crew this side o' Davy Jones'd have me," Jenson grumbled.

"Then why do they call you that?"

"If ye must know: the first couple o' raids I led with yer Da, I did well enough that he started callin' me 'Richard the Lionhearted'. After that king what captained the crusades- ever hear about him?"

"No."

"Ya will, when ye go back ta London an' start yer proper schoolin'. Ya needn't bother makin' faces, whelp- if Captain says yer ta have schoolin', then schoolin' ye shall have."

"I can already read some! Mum taught me!"

"That's well an' good, but yer Da thinks ya should have more learnin', so's ya can get a better-payin' post 'en common tar. 'Tis why yer ta get cartography instruction from Mr. Elliott, startin' this very afternoon. An' we'll not hear any whinin' about that, either!" Jenson glowered over his scrimshaw.

Jack knew better than to argue with that look. "But, why are you Lionfish?"

"Crew thought 'Richard the Lionhearted' were too big a mouthful, so they shortened it ta 'Richard the Lion', or jus' 'Lion'. Then we had that regretful incident in Jaffna. Our quartermaster, Mr. Rossio, took a fall inta the harbor an' drowned. Captain Teague were upset- considered it a personal disgrace ta bring a man safe through battle an' storm, only ta lose him ta somethin' the wharf-urchins do fer fun. So he writ it up in the articles, that every mother's son servin' aboard the 'Star' was ta learn ta swim, at least well enough ta survive tumblin' off a dock. He knew I were best swimmer on 'is crew, so he gave me the task o' instructin' the rest, an' that's when they started callin' me 'Lionfish'. Seems ta be the version that's stuck."

"Do you like it?"

"'Tain't bad. There's worse, I ken tell ya."

Jack pursed his lips for a minute. "When I get a nickname, I want it ta be a bird one."

"Nicknames be like scars, young Master Teague- they happen to ye, oftener than ya choose 'em. Whether they sit well or ill on ye depends mostly on how ya wear 'em." Lionfish gave Jack's arm a light squeeze, nodded, slipped the whale's tooth back in his pocket. "I think ye may go in now."

Jack eagerly rushed back into the surf, and would have started stroking right away if Lionfish hadn't restrained him.

"Ye've done enough laps fer now, Lad. This lesson's on swimmin' below water. Ya do know; the best way ta evade a shark is ta swim under it, eh?"

"I knew that," Jack fibbed.

"So now ye'll learn how. First, ya must get used ta holdin' yer face below surface..."

The training went much better than Jenson expected- Jack proved to be completely unafraid of submersion. On his first attempt at swimming underwater as long as he could, the boy stayed down for over a minute. When he finally came up, Lionfish looking gratifyingly impressed.

"That's verra well done, whelp! Are ye sure ye hain't done this afore?"

Jack shook his head vigorously, flinging spray from his mop. "Weren't nowhere ta swim, at home. I tried wadin' into the river once..." Jack bared his teeth at the recollection. "Gave me a fierce itch. I couldn't sleep a lick that night, fer all the scratchin'!"

Lionfish muttered something very rude about the Thames River. Jack knew it must be rude, because the man added, "But don't be repeatin' that in front of Mrs. Teague, aye?"

Jack was now paddling in easy circles around his instructor. "Mum won't mind. She fair hates that river, too. 'Says it's what gave her the cough."

The Mate's face became very grave. Belatedly, Jack remembered that even the most boisterous of the 'Star's crew tended to get serious, even sad, at mention of his Mum's illness. It made Jack deeply uneasy. "This holiday'll make her better," the boy piped up.

Jenson shook his head. "That were never more'en a forlorn hope, Lad. If breathin' sea air had all the curative powers landlubbers think, theer'd be no sickness aboard any ship. Which hain't so, I ken tell ya. Though I suppose yer Da had ta make the try." He was gazing regretfully towards the 'Star of Madagascar.' No longer in a playful mood, Jack got to his feet, shivering a bit in the waist-deep surf.

"But, no profit in dwellin' on that, eh?" Lionfish forced a small smile. "Ye've been in ocean long enough fer one morn, Master Teague. How 'bout we head back aboard now, an' tell yer Mum 'bout yer lessons? 'Twill make her right proud, ta hear how well yer doin'..."

x

"So, that's the essentials. Now it's your turn- when, where, and under what impetus did you learn to swim, Lizzie?"

"It was just a safety precaution. Father was concerned about me falling into one of the local waterways, so when I was six, he had Nanny teach me in the estate pond. I didn't do it for fun very often, until we moved to Port Royal where the water was so much warmer. And so clear!"

"Yer whelp'll likely enjoy it from the start, then, since he'll be takin' his first lesson in such."

"That's not the aspect I'm concerned about, Jack. I want to be quite sure you're not going to be using any... unconventional teaching methods, which may be fun but involve unnecessary risk."

"Liz! Do you think I'd be takin' unnecessary chances with Willy's safety?"

"It's occurred to me."

"I'll conduct every lesson in shallow water, I'll stay next to him the whole while, an' I'll bring 'im out the moment he shows signs o' takin' chill. What more could you want?"

"Your assurance that, if a shark comes along, you shall not seize the valuable opportunity to teach Willy how to swim under it, but shall immediately escort him to shore, by the shortest possible route."

"If you insist, Liege."

xxx

**FINIS**

xxx

_Lanzarote Island is the furthest-east one in the Canary archipelago, noted for it's dramatic volcanic peaks._

_'Sharazad' is Jenson's mispronounced reference to legendary storyteller Scheherazade._

_Jaffna, the capital of Sri Lanka, is a port city on that island nation's northern end._


End file.
